“Why is there a picture of you with cheerleaders?” Krystal asked, her voice cutting the comfortable silence that had fallen over the room. She looked both amused and as though her belief system had been shaken to its very core. “What are you talking about?” Amber asked, legitimately perplexed. She set the box that had been in her lap onto the floor where a square patch of late afternoon sunlight was falling. They were sorting through boxes of Amber’s old things that her mother had sent to her. Apparently they were turning her childhood bedroom into a study or something. “Here,” Krystal said, thrusting a cheap-looking purple photo album toward her. Amber took the small book from her and opened it to the page where Krystal’s slim index had been wedged. And sure enough, there she was at nine years old standing in front of three high school-aged cheerleaders. “I used to go to cheerleading camp for a week every summer when I was in elementary school,” she explained, studying the photograph and noting her black sweat shorts that were pulled up too high and the too-big white t-shirt that was tucked into them. “You went to cheerleading camp?” Krystal asked in disbelief, obviously not about to let this go. “I liked to dance,” Amber shrugged, eyes moving to the cheerleaders now, “I had such a crush on her,” Amber reminisced, pointing to the cheerleader in the center. “You had a crush on a cheerleader?” Krystal exclaimed, looking completely scandalized. Amber could understand her shock to be honest. With her cropped blonde hair and androgynous style, she was hardly the type to develop a crush on a cheerleader. It was funny in retrospect to think of how different from her usual type the girl was. She was tan (probably fake), wore a ton of makeup, had long dyed blonde hair and had the typical attitude of a girl who was used to getting by on looks alone. But at the time, Amber practically worshipped her for that week during which she was in her care. She told herself that it was just admiration for the much-older girl. And she believed it. Even if it felt like more than simple admiration at the time. She had never been sad for the week long camp to be over before, but she found herself missing it. Or missing that particular cheerleader to be more specific. She even made a mark with a permanent marker on the underside of the barrette that she had worn on the on the last day of camp, declaring it her lucky barrette. Though it was just a plain barrette and she was pretty certain that it had never brought her any luck. “Well…yeah,” Amber confirmed, closing the photo album and setting it down on her bed, “But she was my first crush on a girl. Give me a break.” “I hope your taste has improved since then,” Krystal giggled, teasing. Amber flushed, trying not to stare too obviously at the way Krystal’s pink lips stretched across her perfectly straight, white teeth. “I’m pretty sure it has,” Amber told her, making a face. “Who else have you had a crush on?” the other girl asked, abandoning the box she was sorting through in favor of sprawling across Amber’s bed. “What?” “Well now I’m curious!” Krystal explained, “Now that I know that you had a crush on a cheerleader, I want to know who else you used to like.” “I think the cheerleader was the only shocking one, sorry,” Amber laughed, going back to rifling through the box that she had set on the floor. “Aw come on,” Krystal whined, “There wasn’t anyone else?” “Well…in second grade, there was a boy who serenaded me all the time,” Amber told her, flipping through an old notebook with stickers on the cover. “You had a crush on a boy?” Krystal practically screeched. Amber suspected that her beliefs really had been shaken this time. “That’s just what I thought was supposed to happen,” Amber shrugged, “In Disney movies the girls fell in love with boys.” Krystal considered that, staying silent for a few moments. “I think that’s more shocking than the cheerleader,” she finally said. “Shut up.”